Where is the line drawn between a lady and a witch ?
by Iwasborninthewrongcentury
Summary: The Musketeers are faced with an issue that they taught was long over - like 200 years over - : witchcraft. They do definitely not believe in fairy tales, but something about this case makes them perplex. They also learn more about an unshakable Mademoiselle de Senneville.
1. Chapter 1

The Musketeers were escorting the King's cart to a house near the lake. The owners of the small castle had half of their family in court and were throwing a party to celebrate the newly made engagement between their daughter and another man of significance's son of the King's consol. It was promising to be a grand celebration, in every luxury the nobles might offer: fruits out of season, every coloured flowers, scandalous musicians and good wine. Of course none of that interested the Musketeers, except maybe the wine. They were there to insure the King's safety as per usual and had little interest in the festivities. It was a beautiful day to enjoy the country and it seemed even lovelier to Aramis when the sun's ray were shinning through Queen Anne's beautiful hair and warming the almost bald head of her baby boy. He smiled at her at every chance he had to meet her gaze. Their eyes would lock for a second, before she'd quickly look elsewhere. Quite the opposite was happening when Constance's and D'Artagnan's eyes met: they would lock their gaze for as long as they possibly could laughing and smiling. Needless to say, the mood was for love. All the lovers were parading their affection like it was a contest for the fools and like their lives depended on it for the honest. The inn was beautifully decorated and the Musketeers escorted the happy royal family to their rooms traversing silk and flowered garnished furniture and went to set their own – much more modest – camp outside.

''I love a good wedding'' said Aramis, inhalating deeply and checking out two young giggling girls passing by.

''This is only in preparation of it, imagine the actual reception'' said Porthos.

''How nice must it be to have so much money to waste'' added D'Artagnan.

''I wonder how it feels, tell us Athos'' mocked Aramis. Athos smirked and forgave his friends' indiscretion as they were only trying to be funny and as it was pretty hard to get mad in such atmosphere. Later on the evening, guests arrived under the vigil observation of the Musketeers. A carriage came along, and the family Renard Davalle was announced. They were the owners of a municipality in Monaco which had just past from the Italian domination to the French one. The master of the Renard Davalle had had a big part in the negotiation and had now a privileged place at the French court and Monaco. They were told to be richer than both countries put together. When their servants started to unpack the gifts that were filling an entire carriage to themselves, the Musketeers started to believe that the rumors might be slightly true. Jean de Renard Davalle was a busy man and thankfully he had many children he could just send away to pay visits and all the social duties he despised. Two handsome men got out of the second carriage followed by a young woman dressed in the finest of drapes. They greeted the future groom with a lot of warmth and seemed even more content to meet his wife to be. The first to notice that something was off was D'Artagnan, he hit Aramis slightly to his side to get his attention. Eventually all the men understood why the lady looked so familiar. Her hair was lighter and she was much finer dressed that the usual, but they all still recognised Mademoiselle de Senneville. Athos regretted his thought of earlier; he could get mad even in such a lovely environment. The woman was unforgivable, how could she cheat even the noblest of men? As soon as they had an occasion to separate her from her so called brothers, Athos charged, closely followed by Aramis who was scared of what he could do. Athos grabbed her to get her away from indiscrete eyes, and pushed against a tree, hiding in its bush.

'What do you think you are doing?' he asked the not so surprised lady.

'I could ask you the same question' she answered in a sense of provocation.

'Where is the actual lady De Renard Davalle? What have you done with her?' he persisted.

The lady stopped for a moment before bursting into laughter. Athos had no patience for her flirting and stopped her by pressing his hard fingers in her forearm. 'You think I'm an imposture?' she said 'Quite frankly, I can't blame you.' She continued for herself without trying to get away from Athos' grip.

'You have given us every reason to believe so' said Aramis calmly, not willing to condemn his friend so easily.

'You are right, but use your brains. I can trick anyone I just met into believe I am anything I would like, but this is my family. I came here with my own brothers, how can you doubt them?'

'They might be a part of your forgery. It wouldn't surprise me' said Athos.

'Maybe, but it would definitely surprise the King or Richelieu – god have his soul - since they have known them for many years now.' She said, starting to feel her hand go numb. 'And the groom to be knows us, he's my cousin. He has also known us for years. No matter how much you would like to find something to incriminate me, it definitely won't be here' she said looking deep into Athos' eyes.

At that moment, three girls interrupted their exchanges and looked with wide eyes Athos' hold on their lady.

'Mademoiselle de Renard, what is this...Guards!' one started to scream before being stopped by Aramis.

'We are the guards, dear. Aramis of the King's Musketeers' he added bowing and kissing her hand. She still didn't seem quite convinced.

'These men were just telling me about this new dangerous poison' jumped in the lady. 'It works underneath your clothing actually and they were just making sure that I was free of it. Please, guards, do the same for my friends'.

Aramis and Athos looked at each other perplexed before starting to feel lightly the girls' bodies.

'How terrible! Thank god, you are here to look over us Abbygaëlle' said a blond haired one.

'As always, my dearest' she said in her sweetest voice. 'Go on, I will be right there' she encouraged the ladies to leave. 'Is that enough proof to you? I am spotless Athos, stop looking for trouble. And you owe me. Technically, I could have put the young victim act and call you an harasser. ' She started leaving to join her escort who were anxiously eyeing her. ' And I let you touch my obviously very smart lady friends, I bet you enjoyed it, you sick perverts.' She said her last sentence laughing and met her friends, placing her arms over their shoulders. She was in a fabulous mood : she was with her brother, there was good food, wine and company in this place. What else could she wish for?

The next morning, King Louis declared that he wanted to go for a hunt. The woods around the castle were practically virgin and he got very excited at the idea of a fresh kill. He invited all the company of men and they were to leave after breakfast. Abbygaëlle, or as we know her, mademoiselle de Senneville was the most of upset about this news. The King was stealing away some of the precious and rare moments she could spend with her brothers.

'Don't be like that Abby, when the King wants something, you can't just refuse' said her older brother Thomas.

'I know' she said ' But I'm still jealous'.

'We have already discussed this, no matter how good of a shot you are, you can't come hunt with us' answered her other brother Lucas.

'I bear very little interest in killing wild animals, I'm jealous because the King will be with you and I won't!'

'I know we are particularly good company, but you have to share!' said Thomas. Her sister hit him on the shoulder for being so cocky and he grabbed her from the ground and tickled her. She laughed and screamed and tried to push her way out.

'How childish of both of you' sighed Lucas.

'Oh, come on. You are moody only because you are anxious about your shooting' said Abby trying to get a smile out of him while poking his full cheeks.

'No, I am not. I'm the best shot out of all of us.' He replied, pushing her fingers away.

'Please little brother, don't embarrass yourself. I'm obviously the best.'

'Come on now boys, I can beat you both. We can put your scores together and I would still beat you guys' the girl said.

'Well, this calls for a competition!'

They ran to get their servants and pistols. Abby was exhilarated. It was just like good old times, when they competed to see who could jump the highest, run the quickest or last the longest underwater. For most times she would lose, but today she won. All of her shots were made in brilliant precision and she had Beaulieux to thank for. But she wouldn't mention that to her brothers obviously. When Porthos and Aramis came to get the men for their hunt, Abby had to fight an urge to jump at her brothers' neck to stop them from going. Thomas kissed her on the top of her head and they left. The two brothers helped each other on their horses and Aramis and Porthos talked and joked while waiting. She noticed something grandly familiar between the two pairs, that same sense of brotherhood, of friendship and even of family. She had just realised why she liked the Musketeers so much and why she had that irrational need to be accepted by them: they reminded her of her family. They reminded her of the only people she felt truly comfortable with and by whom she was really loved: her brothers. She had lost them long before and all she seemed to have done since, was to find that same sense of acceptance she felt amongst them. Her self-diagnostic made her noxious a little before she realised Aramis had his hat raised towards her for several seconds now. A worried frown was starting to take place on his face as she kept not reacting. Embarrassed, she bowed her head quickly losing some of the grace she usually had in those moments and stormed off. Where was her escort of stupid yet useful girls when she needed them?


	2. Chapter 2

The day had finally come when the Musketeers and other patrols had to escort the Royal company back to Paris. Aramis ached for the noise, the smell and the business of Paris, but Queen Anne's discrete smiles eased his nostalgia. D'Artagnan was riding his horse as closely to Constance's carriage occasionally making her laugh. Athos and Porthos were leading the troupe and their attention was directed towards a good amount of men blocking the way to the castle. When they were close enough, they realised the meeting was actually a riot. They stopped their escort to see what the fuzz was all about. All four of the Musketeers went ahead and called upon the first villagers they saw. The men were carrying torches and farming tools as weapons.

'The evil has been amongst us for too long' said the elderly while spitting on the floor. He had a big hat hiding his sun damaged face and he was missing many teeth.

'What's this nonsense?' asked D'Artagnan.

'It's the house upon the hill sir. It had haunted us for years now and we will stop the devil from continuing his work' answered what seemed to be the son of the elder.

'How? By burning the whole thing to the ground?' asked Porthos irritated.

'If we have to, we will. It can be any worse than what it has put us through' said the old man.

'What about the people that live in there?' continued Porthos.

'They are as damned as the actual house! They should burn with it!' said the old man who had to be tranquilized by his son so that he doesn't hurt himself.

'We are giving them a chance to leave in peace' said his son 'but many believe that they don't deserve one'.

'This is ridiculous we must stop this at once' said Porthos.

'We ' said Athos gesturing himself and D'Artagnan ' will guide the King and his men through another road. I don't like making him pass through angry villagers; we'd be putting him in an uncomfortable situation for no reasons. These men are just angry, the two of you should find out why they are putting their discontent on this house' .

As Athos suggested, Porthos and Aramis made their way to the front door constantly having to remind the crowd that they are the King's Musketeers and they wanted a passage made. They were welcomed in the house by an old man. The word welcomed wasn't quite appropriate as he was not welcoming at all. Frankly, he was an old Grinch but none of our honorable Musketeers could come to such conclusion. They saw him as emotionally shaken by the events therefore, forgetting his manners.

The valet introduced them to three ladies, which seemed to be three generations of the same family. The oldest had red hair and eyes so light, they seemed damaged. The second oldest had around figure and clean, brown and groomed hair. The youngest seemed not even a fully grown woman yet. Her red curls did not want to stay in place and she kept avoiding eye contact with the Musketeers. The two first were widows, their husbands died on the battlefield and they were about to marry off the youngest explained the middle aged woman.

'That is all very lovely, but that is not why we are here' said Aramis while holding his cross. He did not believe the talk of the peasants, but this house surely had devilish vibes to it. It was so loud; it seemed to be filled with walking guests. It was so old, it surely lived through many families and some might even have perished in there.

'If you are talking about the riots exhibited in front of our house, there is nothing much we can do about it. Its only ignorance and hatred, I assure you.'

'Ignorance and hatred of what exactly?' asked Porthos.

'Of us. You see, we had to rebuild our lives after our husbands left. We were not blessed with a physique that would offer us the opportunity to make a second marriage after the many years we spent on the first one and the child we had. My daughter is my only child and I do not have any siblings. My mother and I had an oddly similar life and the peasants call it witchcraft' The lady snorted as if the idea made her laugh, before continuing:' As I was saying, we had to provide for ourselves and our family which the vile men of the village did not enjoy. Times are rough you know? And having work taken away from you by women? Ah, that's more than they can take'.

Aramis smiled at the ferocity in the madame's tone. She had had it rough indeed. But he liked her perseverance and tried his best to stop his irrational unwellness .

'Tell us, what is it that you do?' he asked politely and smiled at the youngest still hiding behind her hair.

'Anything we can to stay alive. At first, we used to cook bread and sell it on the streets.' She seemed ashamed of her rather modest beginnings. 'Eventually, we got to understand a little the business that is made around here. We offered chambers, but no one would want to lodge here. I learn my husband's – god have his soul – work. He was a blacksmith. I made small business. I was good and I didn't ask much. At first, I lied. I said that the blades were made by my nephew and that I was only selling them, but the villagers figured out my scheme. That's when the witchcraft accusation started. Because a woman can't simply be better than a man at a man's job.'

Porthos looked at Aramis sideways, they were not welcome here. These women had definitely had their fair share of bad macho experiences and the house itself seemed to want them out. He noticed behind Aramis a hallway that contrasted with the rest of the house. It wasn't as old and nor was it falling apart.

'What's with this part of the house?' asked Porthos.

'It burned down' It was the first time the older woman had spoken. He tone was hard and low. She did not bother to look up the Musketeers, she seemed blasé by everything that was surrounding her. Maybe she actually even was blind.

'My mother is right. We don't know how the fire started. My best guess is that these rats parading in the streets have come to finish what they started. ' She took a deep breath and controlled herself before continuing. 'We had to renovate it. Unfortunately, we did not have the means to do the same to the rest of the house, leaving that part standing apart.

The two men thanked the ladies and were happy to leave the gloomy place. Something was so odd about it, that Aramis even made a small prayer before leaving in order to keep the women safe especially the younger one. On their way to the castle, they stopped some more villagers to get their versions. The men admitted to everything they were told in the house. They were still convinced that they were witches. They said that the women had set a curse on their husbands to willingly become widows and own their properties. They also said that they were willing to sell their souls for a couple of dimes. All of which seemed pretty reasonable to the Musketeers. Not everybody had the luxury to live the life of the ones they were escorting for the last couple of days. The men continued their talk and caught the attention of the Musketeers more. They said that young women sometimes went to that house and that the house owners never let them go. They were told to torture them and to feed of the pain of the women that came to them in need for help. Odd sounds were to be heard at all time of the day or night from the newest part of the house. Also, anytime anyone went near the house to reclaim justice, he or she always failed. He or she always left the house and never had a word about it to anyone ever again. The villagers say that they were bewitched and that's why they decided to take the matters in their own hands.


	3. Chapter 3

'How are the witches doing?' chanted Mademoiselle de Renard Davalle. 'I taught we were over witchcraft... like two hundred years ago.' She threw her apple in the air before biting in it, enjoying every bit of her dramatic intrusion in the Musketeers' conversation. Aramis and Porthos were cleaning their horses in the stables, using that time to make a report to Athos and D'Artagnan.

'How on earth can you be aware of this' asked D'Artagnan, perplex but amused.

'Well, you made us take a road that longened our trip for three hours. I had plenty of time to think and to gather intelligence.' Looking at the faces of the men, she knew she was on their bad side. They probably still taught that she was some sort of imposture. She rolled her eyes to the skies when no one answered her. 'Intelligence you might want to use...'

'And for what in return?' asked Athos in a harsh tone.

'For nothing... in particular.' She smiled of all her teeth, the kind of smile that would open the door to any room.

'We are not interested in your games.' Said Athos coldly.

'Oh, come on!' answered the lady. 'If anyone else would help to solve a case by bringing information of importance to you, you would call him honorable; tell him that they have your extreme gratitude. But you turn me down like I'm dirt on the alley when I have helped you before. Do I need to remind you the circumstances of our first meeting? If anyone should be holding grudges that'd be me, sir.' Exploded the lady to win their favor.

'All right, enough. We will listen to you!' said Athos eager to have her to shut up.

She squealed a little and when she realise how desperate she looked, she straightened her dress and her hair.

'I'm sorry' she said. 'It gets quite boring at court.'

'What a spoiled way to think.' Sighed Porthos.

'Excuse me, don't talk to me about being spoiled. None of you. You all could of had better conditions than yours, but threw them all away for a place amongst the Musketeers. And I don't blame you.'

'Would you go on with that intelligence of yours you gathered?' pushed D'Artagnan.

'Why so pressing? Already tired of me?' she asked kindly.

'Don't worry about them love, I will hear all you have to say' said Aramis bowing to her.

She laughed of her long and graceful laugh before being stopped by someone shouting her name.

'Crap' she said before pulling a ball out of one of her socks, unpurposely flashing the Musketeers with her pale legs. 'I will meet you tonight at the garrison. For now I am supposed to be playing cricket with the very lovely and not hunting obsessed at all Duke of Lavoie.' Before leaving, she gathered herself for a second. Afterwards, she ran to her ladies calling her, laughing and smiling as graceful as usual. Aramis definitely loved the girl. Not in the way he loved Anne, of course, but he still couldn't get the smile she left hanging off his lips away.

'Is she always like that?' asked Porthos

'I quite hope so.' Said Aramis laughing.

Later that night, Abbygaëlle de Renard Davalle put on her riding attire and went to the

Musketeers garrison like she said. She found them all sitting at a table eating the supper Serge was serving to them. The old man stayed in shock when he recognised the lady with a much finer appearance than what he was used to see of her. She had a long hood and some lacy details hiding her face making her unrecognisable from far, which probably was her goal. She sat with the men who were in a much better mood to speak than earlier. Even Athos seemed less irritated than the usual. She had questioned her servants and sent her mailing man to see what was stopping the company on their way to the castle. She learnt many things the Musketeers already knew, but she brought two new elements to the table : the ladies of the house were holding some sort of gathering. Nobody quite knew when they happened, but the house was always crowed at that time. The villagers say that it's a gathering of witches, who reunited while the moon is full to channel its power. Secondly, the youngest was to be wed to an ill man. He was known to have a fragile health and – it is said – that that was what made him attractive to the eyes of the family, that and his money. No one would suspect murder when such an ill man would come to pass away. She was about to continue when she was stopped by a horse making its way in the garrison. The thing on it seemed so young that Porthos stood to help it down the horse , fearing it might break her. Horse and hood off of her, Aramis and Porthos recognised the young girl that wouldn't want to speak when they were visiting the house on the hill.

'What's wrong little girl?' asked Porthos while sitting her down.

'Do you remember us?' asked Aramis while offering her bread.

'Yes' started the girl. Poor thing, she was so shaken. 'I was told that you help people. You help them with their injustice. Is that true?' she rose her big and humid eyes towards the men and they all could feel their hearts melt.

'We are the King's Musketeers' said D'Artagnan, encouraging. 'We can help you.'

Before she could continue to speak, tears chocked her and came down rolling on her cheeks like rain on the streets. All the men looked at each other, not sure of what attitude to take._ That was typical of men,_ thought Abbyagaëlle,_ to think of how to react when a child is crying in front of them_. She took the girl in her arms and slowly rocked her. She tried to lull her with the sweet and heartwarming sounds only woman could make : small hush and whispers. After a while, she swallowed her tears and faced her companions.

'You need to stop them. They want to wed me to some man twice my age that I don't even know! They want to sell me off like some merchandise!'

When she realised that everyone kept silent to her words, tears started falling from her eyes again.

'But... You said you fought against injustice! I have no one else to go to for help. I don't know what to do' her last words were buried in Abbygaëlle's shoulder. When she recomposed herself, Abbygaëlle took her chin in one hand and swiped her tears with the other.

'These gentlemen do fight injustice, but they don't fight against the world we live in. You have to wed. That's the way it is. Haven't you been told that women are nothing without husbands?'

'But I don't know him, I could never love him.' snorted the young girl.

'Who told you that you had to love your husband? You can find love elsewhere. In your children! Haven't you thought of the family of your own you will soon be able to have? Little babies all for you to spoil!'

'But it's not fair...'

'Oh honey, nothing is. This entire bloody world is unfair and it's even worse when you are born a woman. But what are you going to do about it? Whine and cry here, cursing God for having made you a woman or you are going to stand up and be proud and wed this man. You might not find love in the union, but you will find many other things. You don't believe that you would be happy spending your life hiding in your mother's skirts, now do you?'

The girl rushed her head to her sides.

'Well, with a husband, you will have things of your own. And who knows, you might even eventually love him. I know you are scared, but there's no need to. You are a strong little girl and you will take advantage of this situation, because believe me, there are plenty! You are just too young to quite understand them yet.'

The girl stayed for a little while more. Drinking every words that came out of Abbygaëlle's mouth : advices, experiences and funny stories. At some point, she looked at a small pocket watch and a small scream came out of her. She excused herself and ran off to her horse. D'Artagnan helped her on and Abbygaëlle indicated him to do the same for her.

'Where are you going?' asked Aramis.

'I will follow her! Have you seen that hurry? The only reason I can find that she would fear being late so much is that tonight is a very special night... A gathering maybe even.'

Than, she stormed off followed by the four Musketeers.


	4. Chapter 4

Once they made it to the old house, the five comrades observed hidden behind the bushes. Men in long and dark capes made their way slowly in the house by the back door : the renovated one. Some of the visitors seemed out of the dress code, but still made it in.

'We need to join whatever this is' said Porthos.

'You and Aramis can't, they will recognise you and if it's some funny business, they will stop immediately.' said D'Artagnan.

'We will go in. I will try to intrude this meeting and you try the find the young girl to see what's her role into this.' said Athos before heading towards the house.

'What about me? I'm coming with you.' Said Abbygaëlle.

'You've seen yourself that only men are entering. They won't let you in.' declared Athos.

She stripped Aramis of his long black coat, ripped her skirts off and hid her hair under Aramis' hat. She thanked him and swiped a little box from her skirts and pressed two hairy pieces to her eyebrows and patted her jaw line with a small brown sponge. Then, she made a turn on herself and waited for the Musketeers to applause, which they didn't. She did not have her flattening robe nor her shoulder pads, but the costume would do. She had the defined jaw line, the strong brows, and the male clothing: all you could see was Aramis' and her ridding boots could have been for male. Plus, her natural height helped her even more to look like a boy.

'What kind of a person carries fake eyebrows with her?' asked D'Artagnan.

'Don't judge me, farmer boy. I look like I have more facial hair than you do.'

'That was low.' answered D'Artagnan while faking being insulted.

Being the two youngest of the group, they had developed a relationship similar to siblings'.

'Plus, the girl loves me. She is much more likely to tell me what is happening than to any of you. The so called heroes that failed her. I don't mean that, obviously, but the child is naive. She probably does.'

'Fine, you can come.' said Athos.

As they made their way into the house, Abbygaëlle was astonished by it. It had history so vivid; she could almost feel energy exiting the walls. It was definitely haunted, the peasants were right on that, but most of old buildings were. She had spent a year in Russia in a coven that was literally falling apart and it was haunted as well. Nothing bad had happened to her and the vibes of this house made her go back to those days : to the ones she wasn't mademoiselle Abbygaëlle de Renard Davalle, but simply Abby. The lady at the front door dragged her back to earth. There was a 10 livres fee just to get in. Before she could realise, D'Artagnan was gone and Athos and her were pushed to enter some big salon. It was dark and filled with silent people wearing black. They moved around like ghosts. A lady sited Athos and Abbygaëlle to a solitary table lighted by a lonely candle. Once they were installed they had the time to get a good look of their surroundings. Small tables were scattered around the room with some lonely men. Some of them were accompanied by woman. Pretty flirtatious women in revealing clothing... The other men – the caped ones – walked around the room to join long hallways and disappeared into the dark. After a moment, the table near them emptied: a woman showed the way to one of the hallways to the man she was sitting with. The table next to them was hard for Abby to look at without starring: the questionable lady was sitting on the man's lap and sticking her tongue deep in his throat. Before the man's hands could get any busier, the house owner tapped the lady on her back. The couple left through one of the hallways and two men took their place.

'This is a whore's house!'

Abbygaëlle sounded amazed. While Athos perplex: if all the whores were willing, there was no crime in their actions. He could understand why such a business deranged the villagers nearby and why they had to come up with a story to hide their shame.

'You sound almost glad.' said Athos

'I am! This house does look scary. It is haunted, you know. I've seen enough of 100 years old covens to know when a place is haunted.'

'So you are scared of ghosts?' said Athos without quite paying attention: he didn't want to close a case abruptly.

'No, I'm glad that those ladies found something to keep a roof upon their heads and bread in their plates, that's all. Oh, don't give me that look.' she added when Athos finally bothered to look at her.' Being a madame is the best thing to happen to a woman on the streets.'

'Or find a mysterious organisation lead by a certain Beaulieu?' said Athos.

She simply raised a brow at him and before she could answer, the same woman that welcomed them announced that two women were going to be available to them really soon. Abbygaëlle froze immediately. Athos also seemed less comfortable and he looked around for an exit.

'We need to get out of here' said Abbygaëlle.

'We are better to wait for our ladies. Once they bring us to individual chambers and make an unnoticed departure then.'

'What? And how long before they realise that I don't have a...' she stopped, struggling to find an appropriate word. ' manhood!'

To her words, Athos chocked on a laugh. He quickly recomposed himself and placed a finger on his lips.

'Really? Of all the things I have said since we met, this is what makes you laugh?' she asked incredulous. But Athos had his attention elsewhere; he had just seen Rochefort walk into the room. He was carrying a big bag and something that looked like some fine skirts were falling off it. Abby hid as much as she could under her hat, he couldn't see her here: it would ruin her. Rochefort hated her family: they were a living reminder of one of the last great contribution of Richelieu to France before passing away. It was also setting the bar high to what he would have to do in order to take Richelieu's place. If he saw her here he would happily sent her back to Monaco to be the shame of her family. Not that she would mind, but that would mean more covens and solitary confinements, which she hated. He locked eyes with Athos. Her heart was racing, she had to do something. Athos seemed to understand her without having to speak. The lady that was welcoming Rochefort stopped to show him something in the back of the room. He seemed to be a _habitué_. Abbygaëlle took her chance; she pushed Athos' chair back, removed Aramis' clothing, sat on his lap and pressed her lips against his. He froze at the beginning and gradually gave her her kisses back. He pressed his hands against her lower back to bring her closer to him. Once they felt two people walk by, Abbygaëlle let herself have a look : Rochefort was heading in one of the hallways with a woman under his arm.


End file.
